


Fight and Fall

by AshSeven



Series: Unconfused [4]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Otabek Altin, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Demisexual Yuri Plisetsky, Idiots in Love, M/M, Makeup Model Yuri, Multi, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-10 10:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13499748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshSeven/pseuds/AshSeven
Summary: New York City, aWar Paintphotoshoot, and Otabek. Yuri was so ready.





	Fight and Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [ KuronekoHikage ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KuronekoHikage/pseuds/KuronekoHikage) for suggesting this! Check out her [Tumblr](https://kuroneko-hikage.tumblr.com/)

Yuri was willing to let it slide that ethnically he was Slavic not Nordic, because Vikings were fucking badass. Macey, the head designer of  _ War Paint _ , had sent over a few sketches and a moodboard of his look for the upcoming photoshoot earlier that day, and he was now sitting down to open the email. They’d been going back and forth for a while now about the photoshoot in mid November with all the brand ambassadors together, he had even been sent a few samples from the new line. His jaw dropped and he had to stop himself from yelling in excitement because they wanted to dress him up like a fucking Viking. It was all black, smokey eyes, bold winged liner, and dark face paint. He’d never been more excited for anything in his life. Okay, that was a lie, but still. 

He’d been positive that  _ War Paint  _ was going to drop him after the media had caught wind of his fight with a certain bitch. He’d been in actual hot water with all his sponsors for almost a month until the hype died down. He had followed Yakov’s instructions and given a statement - which he had written for him - saying how he was sorry for his actions and all that crap. Surprisingly, the people at _War Paint_ hadn’t minded too much, they had just advised Yuri to lay low on all social media platforms for a while. He’d actually deactivated his Instagram this time and had made Otabek change his Snapchat password. He was back online  _ now _ , but it had been a long and  _ boring _ three months. Lilia hadn’t been able to find anything to criticise his dancing about during that time, though. 

He opened the messaging app on his phone, pulling up Otabek’s chat practically squirming in excitement. 

Me:   
Beka!   
Look!!!!!!

He attached a screenshot of the moodboard. 

Beka:   
What am I looking at?

Me:   
My look for the _War Paint_ photoshoot!   
It’s fucking badass

Beka:   
Vikings?

Me:   
BADASS

Beka:   
So, they’re going with a warrior theme? 

Me:   
I guess   
They only sent me my look 

Beka:   
When is this again?

Me:   
In two weeks 

Beka:   
Is it really a good idea to go to New York between competitions?

Me:   
Ummmm   
I wanted to talk to my boyfriend, not my father

He could picture Otabek rolling his eyes, but he had expected gushing not berating. 

Beka:   
Just saying I know I have a longer gap than you, but I don’t want you to tire yourself out 

Me:   
I’ll be fine, dad    
Daddy ;) 

Beka:   
And just like that I’m going to bed 

Me:   
You suck   
Why can’t you just be happy for me?

Beka:   
You’ll be amazing in whatever they put you in. We both know that    
Send me your flight itinerary. I need to make sure we match up    
And the address to the hotel

Me:   
God, you are such an old man

He sent them anyway. He wasn’t annoyed, not really; he was going to have four days to himself and Otabek in New York City. Well granted two of those were for travel and one was for the photoshoot, and they’d probably be so tired on the one day off that they’d spend it in bed. He didn’t mind the thought of that either; it had been too long since they’d seen each other.

 

Otabek was waiting for him by the taxi stand. Yuri had no fucking clue how he did it. His flight had landed fifteen minutes  _ after _ , and yet he’d cleared immigration and customs like he was an olympic sprinter. 

“Beka!” he shouted, running the few feet from the automatic door to where he was waiting. 

Otabek spun, dark eyes searching until they landed on Yuri seconds before he jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his hips. Time froze, basically, as Yuri buried his face into the collar of Otabek’s turtleneck, granddad sweater. Otabek held him tightly, muscles working in his arms as he adjusted his hold on his thighs. 

“Hey, Yura,” he mumbled softly. 

“Hey.”

All of a sudden he felt giddy and couldn't help the wave of giggles that bubbled up his throat. He held onto Otabek’s shoulders, balling his sweater in his fists as he let him down. 

“I missed you,” Otabek mumbled, pressing his forehead to Yuri’s as he bent slightly to meet him. 

“We FaceTimed almost every night.” Yuri’s cheeks were hot. 

“That’s not the same and you know it.” He wound his arms around Yuri’s waist. 

God, he had missed this. He drew back enough to stare into Otabek’s eyes. Cameras didn’t do them justice. He reached up to cup his jaw, smoothing his thumb along his cheekbone. Otabek’s throat bobbed and his smile widened. Yuri felt his heart stutter; four days weren’t enough.

Yuri bent his neck further, and Otabek met him halfway. Their mouths met softly, Yuri was slightly self conscious of his stale airplane breath, but Otabek didn’t seem to mind, even though he tasted like fucking mint. Just how? He even still smelled good, fresh and clean and not at all like he should after a seventeen hour flight. Otabek’s hand came up to tangle in the hair at the back of his head, lightly pulling at his bun. Yuri held onto his sweater like it was a lifeline, tilting his head as their mouths parted and Otabek’s tongue was everywhere all at once. The ground was swaying or, actually, was he? 

Loud catcalls and whistles from a passing car had them jumping apart, and Yuri spun around just in time to see a guy stick his head out of the car window to cheer them on and flash a thumbs up.  _ Americans _ . He turned back to Otabek with steaming cheeks. 

“Uh,” Otabek grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “We should, um, get to the hotel.” He signaled to the guy at the taxi stand and grabbed both his and Yuri’s bags. 

 

Yuri stretched his arms over his head and his legs straight out, groaning softly as a few joints in his back popped. Fucking airplanes. The sheets rustled as he moved. Freshly showered and fed, he felt the time difference catching up with him. But, he had a photoshoot tomorrow. A photoshoot. He was going to be an actual model. For a makeup company. A legit one too. Even Viktor hadn’t accomplished that. He squirmed, rolling into Otabek.

“Excited?” he mumbled, setting his phone down on the nightstand. He had been checking in with his mom. Yuri couldn’t read Kazakh well, but he recognised ‘Mama’ before he locked his screen. The sheets rustled as he rolled over.

Yuri grinned. “Yeah. I mean I’ve had my picture taken for like magazines and stuff, but not like this. Not with like actual makeup and costumes-”

“You wear makeup and costumes for every single one of your competitions-”

“Oh my God, that’s not the same!” Yuri groused, rolling onto his side to face him fully. Both of his hands were pillowed under his cheek and even though his eyes were half closed, he was grinning. Yuri bumped his shoulder gently with his knuckles. “I was actually scared they would have dropped me after the… uh, the fight.” 

Otabek’s eyes snapped open, and he pulled his lips into a thin line. He reached out gently cupping Yuri’s cheek smoothing his thumb across his cheekbone. He jerked away, knowing what was going through his mind. After three months, there were still small, pearly white scars above his eyebrow and down his cheek. They would fade; the dermatologist had given his a lotion that would help speed up the process and told him that they would heal over completely so he shouldn’t worry at all. They were almost gone, but he could see them in certain light and if he stared too hard at the mirror. 

“Yura,” Otabek’s face had fallen; he looked like he was lying on a bed of nails, rather than the pillowy hotel mattress. “I’m so sorry, I honestly didn’t know he was like that-”

“I  _ know, _ Beka.” He rolled his eyes. “I  _ know  _ he was a two-face bitch. I know he had you under his spell and all that shit.” Otabek huffed loudly through his nose. “I mean, you noticed the bitchy texts he sent me from your phone, right?”

“What?” Otabek’s eyes practically bulged. “From  _ my  _ phone?”

Oh, he didn't know. “Yeah, can’t remember what he said exactly, but it was along the lines of stop texting you.” 

He screwed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Yeah, and that time my contact info disappeared from your phone? He blocked me.”

“ _ What _ ?”

“Yeah.” 

“I had no idea he was an actual monster. How did he even get my passcode? I sure as hell didn’t tell him.”

Yuri grabbed his hand from his face, scooting closer. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

He swore softly. “It gets worse the more I learn about him. I feel like I was blind.”

Yuri tucked himself under his chin, wiggling an arm around his ribs. Otabek grumbled, tracing his spine with his fingers. 

“I mean, aren’t you like legally blind without your glasses?” Yuri snickered. Otabek pinched his shoulder, hard. “Ow! Okay, ugh. Anyway, I don’t want to talk about your stupid ex anymore. Tomorrow is the biggest day of my life and I don’t want it ruined.” 

“Yeah, I just can’t believe what an…ass he was. Well, I mean, the things he yelled at me when we broke up... Sorry, we’re done talking about him.” 

Yuri sighed, rolling until he settled on top of Otabek, folding his arms across his chest and wiggling so that his legs fell in between his thighs. Otabek had to stretch his neck up off the bed to see him and ended up grabbing one of the pillows to put behind his head. His chest rose as he drew in a deep breath and he rested his hands against the small of Yuri’s back. He was so warm and big, his chest and stomach were impossibly hard beneath him. Yuri would say this every time but just having Otabek surrounding him like this was the best feeling ever. He grinned, wiggling up his body until he was close enough to place a light kiss on his lips. Otabek’s hold on him tightened, even as his mouth stretched into a smile. 

Tucking his hair behind his ears, he swooped back in for another kiss, bracing his elbows on either side of Otabek’s head. Otabek held his waist, mouth moving slowly at first until it seemed like he lost himself after a few seconds. Yuri breathed out heavily through his nose, feeding the fire in his chest, cupping either side of Otabek’s face and hooking his fingers around his ears. It was ridiculous how this man could make him fall apart so easily. Even his toenails felt like they were on fire. 

Otabek’s hands were under his shirt now, calluses grazing his skin and making him shiver. He grinned into the kiss, parting his lips as Otabek’s tongue prodded at them. He moved up Otabek’s body, the tension of arching his back that much cut through the haze of the kiss. Straddling his waist, Yuri curled his back to keep their mouths joined. Otabek was palming his thighs now, kneading them almost feverishly as Yuri swirled the tip of his tongue around the metal ball in the centre of his. God, he had missed this; FaceTime was a shitty substitute. He couldn’t feel Otabek like this, smell him, or taste him over the phone. It sucked and there was only so much time they could spend together on the rare occasion they competed together. He hadn’t realised before how hard it would be to carve out time to actually see each other in person, or how much more it would hurt when they were apart. 

But now, now he didn’t think he could be happier. Not with Otabek’s scent heavy in his nose, feeling the heat from his body under him, the bulk of his arms and chest as they surrounded him, the hot velvet of his mouth, the sharp sting of his teeth, and his big heavy hands nearly spanning his waist. 

God, he fucking loved this man. 

Otabek’s phone chimed loudly from the bedside table and Yuri groaned, nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away. 

“Who the fuck is that?” he spat, pressing his tongue to his raw bottom lip. They were tingling and probably very swollen. 

“My alarm,” he answered, gently running a thumb over Yuri’s lips while also licking his own. 

“You set an alarm for,” he grabbed the phone, raising an eyebrow at the time. “For ten thirty pm?”

“Bedtime,” he grinned sheepishly. 

Oh. He was such an old man sometimes. “Fina-fucking-ly. I’ve been waiting for hours.” He rolled off of Otabek, to snuggle against his side.

“Yeah, the time difference is hell. What time do we need to wake up tomorrow?” He slipped his phone from Yuri’s grasp, squinting at the screen and pressing a few wrong buttons before Yuri took pity on him and set the correct time. 

“Seven. The shoot is at nine and I need to wash my hair.” 

Otabek hummed, setting his phone back onto the table and flipping off the lamp. They found each other’s hands in the darkness. Yuri pressed up against Otabek’s chest, as he kissed a gentle trail down the back of his neck and shoulder. He couldn't say who fell asleep first.

 

Fierce. He widened his stance, folding his arms across the grey fur mantle. The studio was still cold, and he was positive that the camera would pick up the goose bumps on his stomach and arms. They had told him they were going to take a few shots without the mantle as well, and he was dreading those; his nipples would be sharp enough to cut ice cubes. God, at least when he was at the rink he was moving enough to keep himself warm; this was ridiculous. Hair and makeup had taken hours, he had fallen asleep in the chair only to wake up with more hair on his head than he started the morning with pulled back into a million tiny braids. His look was more on the androgynous side, thank God. And while the entire shoot was based off ancient warriors the designers had put a modern spin on everything. So, here he was in knee high fur and leather stiletto boots, a pair of loose linen pants, that looked oddly like harem pants, and a fur mantel, with a huge silver statement necklace, made up of so many different links and pieces that he’d stopped looking before he got a headache. He’d been given leather fingerless gloves and actual silver gauntlets; he’d never felt more badass in his life. Then there was the body paint - probably part of the reason why he was going shirtless that day. It was all black and covered his chest, arms, back, and stomach in swirls, lines and dots. And they’d given him a few fake scratches, complete with blood. It was fucking amazing, but it had taken hours. He was surprised that Otabek was even still there. 

Otabek was speechless for a few seconds as Yuri left the makeup room and picked him up from the break room on his way to the photo studio - they’d been given a tour with the rest of the ambassadors almost as soon as they had arrived. 

“You look…like you mean business,” he said at length. 

Yuri grinned, before making a sharp turn to stand in front of him. In his heels he stood a good head and some taller than Otabek. “I’m a fucking Viking.”

Otabek cocked his head. “I don’t think any Viking looked exactly like  _ that _ .”

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “It’s badass.”

“It’s  _ hot _ .” 

Oh. Well, yeah. They were probably going for that, it was a makeup company after all. Otabek stepped closer, setting his hands on Yuri’s hips and squeezing gently. Yuri’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Look at you, a professional model.” 

Yuri felt himself blush under all the makeup and paint. “I’m not a professional model.” He wanted to bite his lip, but lipstick. “Just a brand ambassador.”

Otabek squeezed him a little tighter, fingers digging into the braided, leather belt. “You could be modeling for Victoria’s Secret right now.” 

Okay, yeah he was blushing. “So, you want me to walk around in underwear for a living?”

Otabek grinned, his eyes glinting mischievously. “I wouldn’t say no to it.”

Yuri slapped him lightly on the shoulder before pulling away. Otabek’s hand lingered on his waist before traveling slightly up his bare sides. Yuri shivered. 

“Come on, I need to go get my picture taken.” 

There were six ambassadors in all, him and five other girls from all over the globe. _War Paint_ was definitely trying to get the diversity points, but he supposed that was part of their entire brand. Tihun, an Ethiopian track and field athlete, was on the exact opposite side of the spectrum to him. He honestly wasn’t surprised when they had put the two of them together for a set of pictures. He would kill for her cheekbones, though. And her lips. She said he could have them, if he gave her his hair. They could barely stop laughing long enough to take proper pictures. 

“I thought it was a scam first,” she said, once their set was done. He accent was rich and slow, almost making him wish that Russian wasn’t such a harsh language. “A  _ makeup  _ company reaching out to  _ me _ ?” 

Yuri snickered. But why wouldn’t they? She was beautiful. He felt short next to her, even in heels, but then track and field athletes were supposed to be tall. 

“They reached out to my, coach after they saw me in a  _ meme _ ," he offered. 

She paused for a second, before her eyes lit up. “I knew I saw you somewhere before!” Yuri groaned. “You’re that ballerina right?” 

“Yeah.”

She smiled, shoving her shoulder. “You’re prettier in person. Honestly, I didn’t get what everyone was so excited about.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“It wasn’t a compliment.” She winked at him before she was yanked off to pose in front of another camera. 

Oh wow. Okay,  he really liked this girl.

 

None of the ambassadors were actual models with the exception of Lian, a seventeen-year-old girl from Hong Kong. He also wasn’t the only one who had brought someone to the shoot and spied Otabek talking to a tan man with curly brown hair. He was pointing over to him a lot, with a small smile on his face, while the other guy’s eyes were trained on Ka'uhane, a marine biology student from Hawaii. And there were a few older people that Yuri assumed were parents or agents milling around as well. 

The shoot took up most of the day and Yuri was quickly reminded why he didn’t do heels on a regular basis. He slumped against Otabek, on a plush red couch in one of the meeting rooms, rubbing his ankles. Tihun sat next to him, towering over the both of them. 

The same curly-haired woman from the last time sat in a rolling desk chair and clapped her hands to get their attention. He thought her name was Soraya, but he could be wrong. She seemed happy with how the shoot had went that day, Yuri wasn’t really paying attention, but his ears perked up at the words after-party. 

“This is the first time we’ve had all our ambassadors together,” she said smiling. “And I believe that every single photo from this afternoon will be a huge success. In the upcoming year, we’re hoping to do more work with each of you, sometimes together sometimes separately, and this photoshoot has been the start of that. Now to celebrate, I hope to see all of you at the party tonight.”

She had probably mentioned the part in one of the emails she had sent, but to be honest Yuri hadn’t read all the way through any of them. Otabek leveled him with a flat stare after Soraya - Sonia? - had gotten up from her seat. 

“You didn’t tell me about a party,” he muttered in Russian. 

“I would have told you if I knew.” 

He glanced around the room. “Everyone else knew.” 

Yuri bit his lip. “She might have said it in an email.” 

Otabek sighed. “You better find that email.” 

“What are you two talking about?” Tihun asked, smiling. 

“I uh…” Yuri paused, she had already shown that she wasn’t afraid of teasing him. “When did they mention anything about a party tonight?” 

She burst out laughing, flipping a bunch of her braids over her shoulder. “Didn’t you get an itinerary? We were sent one around three weeks ago.” 

Oh. Yuri pulled out his phone, opening the email app. “Was it an attachment?”

Otabek sighed heavily, grabbing Yuri’s phone from him. Tihun was watching them, her dark eyes smiling. “I can’t believe you, Yuri Plisetsky. If you didn’t have Lilia to organise your life, you would be an actual mess.”

Tihun laughed, shifting to face the two of them. “Are you his boyfriend?” 

“Yeah,” Otabek held out his hand, giving Yuri back his phone. “Otabek Altin.” 

“Tihun Teshale, Are you Russian too?” She asked, looking confused as she shook his hand. 

“Kazakhstani,” he supplied. 

“Kazakhstan is right below Russia,” Yuri supplied, seeing more confusion bloom on her face. “We actually met during one of our competitions.”

“You’re a figure skater too?”

Yuri grinned, sitting back. He’d already gone through this line of questioning; he wasn’t going to lift a finger to help Otabek. 

 

They found out where the party was, after Yuri had searched through the email chain, and it wasn’t too far from their hotel. So, they had a few hours to rest and grab something to eat before getting ready. The only problem was,

“I don’t have anything to wear,” Yuri moaned, kicking his duffel bag. He’d taken a long shower, to scrub off all the body paint and undo all of the braids. The one thing he was thankful for was the unlimited hot water that hotels seemed to have. He sat on the edge of the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist and another tying up his hair. 

“You can go just like that.” Otabek smiled from his place on the other side of the bed. “You’ll still be the most beautiful one there.”

Yuri leveled him with a flat stare. “Are you fully in control of your mouth sometimes?”

He snickered, crawling across the bed to sit behind him. Yuri sighed, leaning against his chest as he stretched his legs out on either side of him. “Not really.” Yuri heard the smile in his words as he kissed a slow trail up his neck.

“You’re also not helping.”

“I don’t feel particularly helpful.”

Yuri sighed slumping against him and trying to piece together an outfit in his head. He couldn’t wear jeans; it didn’t seem like that kind of party; well, he could if he wanted a more masculine look, but he hadn’t brought any dress shirts and Otabek’s would be way too big at the shoulders. He huffed as Otabek nibbled at his earlobe.

“Beka, you're seriously not helping right now.”

He drew back slightly, but his fingertips were playing with the hem of Yuri’s towel. “Sorry, but I had to stare at you looking fierce as fuck all day, then you decide to come out here in a towel.”

Oh.  _ Oh _ , right. Yuri felt himself blush slightly.  _ That’s _ probably why he’d been hinting at wanting him to be a Victoria’s Secret model. He turned around, tucking his knees underneath himself, and braced his hands on Otabek’s thighs. He leaned forward to peck him on the nose.

Otabek was now stroking the small of his back, raising goosebumps. Yuri nearly fell against him.

“We’ll do, uh,  _ this _  later tonight.”

He looked like Makkachin when Viktor promised him a treat. Yuri giggled softly, getting to his knees and pressing their mouths together gently. One of Otabek’s hands came up to cup the back of his neck and the towel holding his hair came cascading down over both of them. Otabek chuckled, yanking it from around Yuri’s shoulders, and tossed it carelessly behind him. Running his fingers through Yuri’s damp hair, he deepened the kiss and Yuri wound his arms around his neck, scooting a bit closer to him. He pulled his hair over one shoulder after is started getting in the way, and Otabek wrapped both arms around his waist. He hadn’t showered yet, but he was dry and warm and still smelt faintly of the cologne he had put on this morning. Breathing in deeply, Yuri felt a sudden giddy warmth rise up from his toes. His stomach was quivering and suddenly his chest was too small. God, if they could stay like this forever, kissing, holding each other, Yuri wouldn’t need anything else. But they had a party to go to in less than two hours and he still had no clue what he was going to wear.

He broke the kiss, pressing the tip of his tongue to Otabek’s lip before pulling away completely. There was a small blush high on his tan cheeks, and Yuri could see him struggling to keep his breathing deep and even. He cupped either side of his face with his palms and smoothed his thumbs across his cheeks.

“I really need to get ready.”

Otabek sighed softly, but refused to let go. Yuri grinned leaning forward to give him one last kiss. He intended for it to be short and sweet, but Otabek had other plans, nearly swallowing him instantly. Yuri’s eyes fluttered shut and he let himself be swept away by soft lips and a skilful tongue. So engrossed in the kiss, he didn’t notice that Otabek’s fingers had an ulterior motive when they ghosted down his spine.

A sudden cold breeze across his ass and thighs had his eyes flying open.

“Otabek!” he screamed, scrambling for his towel and pushing at Otabek’s chest until he went tumbling back onto the bed, laughing loudly.

He pulled Yuri down on top of him, keeping him in place with an arm across his back.

“You ass,” Yuri grumbled punching him weakly in the shoulder.

He hummed in agreement, and Yuri choked when a large callused hand palmed his bare ass cheek. He sighed roughly, burying his face against Otabek’s neck.

“Wear the shoes Roza sent you,” he suggested and it took Yuri a minute to realise what he was walking about.

“Yeah, gold glitter sneakers and what  _ else _ ?”

“No-”

“If you say nothing, I’m breaking up with you right now.”

Otabek exhaled in amusement. His chest shook. “I dunno. Leggings, a nice shirt.”

Yuri hummed. Leggings were versatile as fuck, and, oh, he did have a red velvet, cropped sweater that could work with the right jewellery. He pressed a light kiss to Otabek’s jaw. “Let me up.”

Otabek groaned like he had asked him to do the impossible, but sat up and watched as Yuri slid from the bed and fished through his bag. He hid a grin by biting his lip, knowing that Otabek was probably salivating as he watched him. It sent an excited trill throughout his body to know that he could disarm Otabek in such a way.

“Stop staring at my ass.”

“Never.”

 

“I think that’s our taxi,” Otabek mumbled, squeezing Yuri’s waist as he guided him from the hotel lobby to the doors.

A yellow car was parked right in front of the doors, but he still pulled Otabek’s leather jacket more tightly around himself.  Otabek opened the back door and held out his hand to help Yuri into the car.

“Ready, my love?” he asked, waiting for Yuri to take his palm.

Yuri nearly stumbled over his feet, an intense blush covering his face. He glanced to the taxi driver only to realise that he probably didn’t speak Russian anyway. Otabek waited patiently, holding his hand out with a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He bit his lip taking Otabek’s hand and sliding into the car. God, and the thing was that Otabek probably wasn’t even teasing him or anything; he genuinely meant what he said. Yuri didn’t let go of his hand as he scooted over to give him room to sit down. He mumbled the address to the driver, then taking a deep breath he brought Otabek’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. Otabek turned to him, eyes tender and mouth pulled into a small smile. Yuri’s entire face was on fire, but he still leaned close and mumbled,

“Always, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> So, War Paint didn't drop Yuri after the fight, but might have turned it into a bold PR statement :) As always, feel free to talk to me on[Tumblr](https://ashthe7th.tumblr.com/) I'm happy to take suggestions :) If you guys would like to see something specific happen in the WGAP universe please don't hesitate to ask!


End file.
